


In Case I Want It All

by Auber_Gine_Dreams



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Flower Language, Flower Shop Coups, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Jun owns a book store, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Strangers to Lovers, Tattoo Artist Wonwoo, i will use any excuse to give Wonwoo a sleeve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auber_Gine_Dreams/pseuds/Auber_Gine_Dreams
Summary: Wonwoo walks out of the shop and something opens up in Seungcheol’s chest, like he’s standing at the waters’ edge and a huge wave comes out of nowhere, hits him so hard he has to steady himself on the counter.Seungcheol is in love with someone who’s in love with someone else.There’s no way this is going to end well.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Jeon Wonwoo, Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 34
Kudos: 169
Collections: Coup de Cœur - Round 1





	In Case I Want It All

**Author's Note:**

> All of my flower language comes from the book "A Victorian Flower Dictionary". Some of the flowers used are probably not commonly found in flower shops, but I really loved their messages so here they are!
> 
> This is my "surprise ao3 user auberginedreams can also write cute stuff" fic! If you don't think Seungcheol would love the idea of flower language bouquets then I have news for you!!
> 
> Title is from the song "Marigold" by Nirvana ;)

_the names of flowers that open only once_ _  
_ _shouted from balconies, shouted from rooftops_ _  
_ _or muffled by pillows, or whispered in sleep_ _  
_ _or caught in the throat_ _  
_ _-Richard Siken_

The shop bell is a faint tinkle from the back room. Seungcheol hears the sound of it in his sleep sometimes, a much more unwelcome summons than now. He makes his way through the door and behind the front counter. 

“Let me know if I can help you with anything,” he calls. 

The man turns to look at him and Seungcheol feels a little star-struck. He’s unbelievably handsome, dark hair falling neatly above his eyes, thick-framed glasses slipping down his nose. He’s dressed in jeans and a black shirt, and his left arm is covered in ink, a sleeve of flowers. It’s hard to make them out, but Seungcheol is pretty sure the one near his elbow is a marigold.

“I, uh, well,” the man starts, glancing down at the floor. Searches for the words. Seungcheol lets him take his time. “There’s someone that I like.”

Seungcheol grins. He rests his arms on the counter and leans forward over the glass.

“So you want to tell them you’re interested.”

The man blinks up at him, chewing on his bottom lip as he nods. 

Seungcheol inclines his head. “Tell me a little about them. I’ll make you an arrangement that will blow them away.”

He walks over to the counter, staring at the flowers behind Seungcheol. Those are more expensive, more particular flowers. 

“I’m Seungcheol,” he says.

“Wonwoo.”

“Alright Wonwoo, tell me about the person you like, especially what you want to tell them with your flowers.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow. “Tell them?”

Seungcheol nods, moving away from the counter to reach for the book behind him. It’s old, the cover creased and faded, each page dog eared. It’s mostly for show. He doesn’t need to read the pages at this point in his career.

“Flowers have their own language. Most people have forgotten it over the years, but there was a time people used flowers to tell their true feelings.”

Wonwoo looks at the book and back to Seungcheol’s face with something like wonder.

“I do a lot of flower work. Comes with the job.” He holds up his arm as an explanation. “So I know a few common ones. Roses and lilies. But I want...well, he’s —”

Seungcheol reaches to his left and pulls out a lilac, passing it to Wonwoo.

“He’s special, right? Makes your heart beat like crazy.”

The tips of Wonwoo’s ears go pink, but he gives Seungcheol a singular nod. The truth is, owning a flower shop isn’t any kind of big money business. In slower months Seungcheol barely breaks even, and if it weren’t for weddings he would have gone bankrupt ages ago. But Seungcheol has always been a romantic at heart, and it’s this, moments when someone like Wonwoo walks into his shop, that make him remember what he loves about his job.

He walks out from behind the counter and gestures for Wonwoo to follow.

“Alright. Tell me about him. What’s the first thing that drew you in?”

Wonwoo falls into step next to him easily, shoulders relaxing as they make their way to the far wall of the shop. He’s holding the lilac gently between the fingers of his left hand like he’s afraid of breaking the stem.

“His smile,” Wonwoo says. Seungcheol turns to him and he seems a little less embarrassed now. “His laugh.”

“Good. That’s good.” Seungcheol stops and plucks out a few white carnations. “You’ve talked to him a few times, right?” 

Wonwoo hums. “A few times. I only see him at work. He owns this amazing bookstore that always has the best secondhand books. And two cats.”

Seungcheol nods. “Anything else?”

“He was a little shy at first. It took a few visits before he started talking to me, but now he sits with me whenever I come in. He always wants to hear about my more...eccentric clients.”

Cute. It’s really too cute. Seungcheol’s heart squeezes. He sneaks a glance at Wonwoo, all bright eyes and fond smile, picks up a few soft pink cyclamen. 

“Are you going to take him out?” Seungcheol asks. He wonders if Wonwoo is the type to lay his heart on the line right away, or if he’ll build up to it, test the waters a little before he takes the plunge. Love is a lot like flowers, different shapes, different temperaments. But always beautiful.

Wonwoo bites his lip, glancing at the flowers in Seungcheol’s hand. “I think...I’ll see what he thinks of them. If he likes them, I’ll have to get another bouquet and ask him for real.”

Seungcheol takes the lilac out of Wonwoo’s hand. As they continue around the shop he grabs a single iris. 

“Why just one?” Wonwoo asks. He presses his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Seungcheol’s heart flips inside of his chest. A side effect of all the love talk. 

“Well, the iris tells the receiver that there’s a message in the flowers for them. If he knows anything about them, it’ll certainly make him take a second look.” 

Once he’s back behind the counter, Seungcheol adds some more lilac to the mix. It’s a beautiful arrangement, pure white with soft pinks and purples. He adds a few greens for volume and wraps the bouquet carefully in plastic. 

“What does it say?”

Seungcheol smiles. “You met a lovely guy that makes you feel like you could fall in love, and you’re hoping that he recognizes your feelings.”

Wonwoo looks at the bouquet, almost amazed. “It really says all that?” 

Seungcheol nods.

“It’s amazing,” Wonwoo murmurs, “No, it’s perfect.” The smile he throws Seungcheol’s way is nearly blinding. “Thank you.”

Seungcheol feels the back of his neck burn. He hands the bouquet over and Wonwoo pulls his card out of his back pocket, signs his name like he does it for a living. His handwriting is pretty. Seungcheol kind of wants to see his portfolio.

He wants to see the other flowers on his sleeve, too. Maybe next time, he thinks as Wonwoo leaves the shop with a final wave. 

Maybe next time.

  
  


❧❧❧

  
  


It takes two weeks for him to come back. Seungcheol is helping a woman build arrangements in her wedding colors when Wonwoo walks in. He gives Seungcheol a reserved smile and stands off to the side, heading to the roses like he knows what he’s doing. The bride is happy with the samples he’s made and she spends a long time comparing them to dress pictures, the venue, and even double checks that they’re seasonally appropriate before she settles on her favorite. The middle one, soft gardenias and delicate pink roses. Seungcheol figured she would like it the best. 

She goes on her way after paying her deposit and Seungcheol walks over to Wonwoo, barely able to contain a smile.

“You’re back,” he says. “Does that mean success?”

Wonwoo grins. Today he’s wearing a sleeveless shirt. The flowers on his arm are on full display. The marigold he was sure about earlier. A few roses. The star of the show is a chrysanthemum taking up the majority of his bicep. The three of them together tell an interesting story, one that Seungcheol wants to ask about. Were the choices intentional? Is that why Wonwoo is interested in building bouquets like this?

“He really liked them. Said he’s never gotten flowers so beautiful before.”

“I take a lot of pride in making sure my arrangements are perfect.” Seungcheol feels warm with it, like he’s floating. “I’m glad to hear it.” He has an idea of what Wonwoo wants this time, so he reaches over Wonwoo’s shoulder for a few moss roses. “So what’s the plan? Are you going to take him out?”

Wonwoo seems much less shy this time, nodding confidently. 

“So how do I say, _I really like you and I want to give this a try_?”

Their eyes are locked, and the words hit Seungcheol like a punch, like he has any right to them at all. He almost physically shakes himself in an effort to clear his head before he hands over the moss roses. Their fingers brush when Wonwoo takes them, surprisingly warm against Seungcheol’s skin.

“Here’s how we start.”

Wonwoo falls in step next to him as he moves around the shop. He wants to ask what his name is, the boy who’s got Wonwoo head over heels, but it’s not a detail he needs to do his job. They’re hardly friends, though Seungcheol has been thinking about finding Wonwoo’s shop and stopping in. He wants to see his art. He wants to talk to him without the barrier between client and customer.

“Did you tell him the flowers had a hidden message for him?” Seungcheol asks. 

Wonwoo huffs a laugh, his shoulder bumping against Seungcheol’s gently. “I was too nervous. But this time, I think I’ll tell him.”

“He might surprise you and already know what you’re trying to say.” Seungcheol grabs a few stems of white heliotrope and passes them to Wonwoo. It feels better having him hold the bouquet as they build it.

“If he knows and hasn’t said anything I think I’ll be too embarrassed to ever see him again,” Wonwoo admits, pressing his glasses up his nose. “Do you tell all the girls you like them with flower messages?”

Seungcheol smirks. “And guys. You’d be surprised how many men like getting flowers.”

It feels like Wonwoo’s eyes burn into him with the force of his stare. 

“I’m sure it’s less to do with the flowers and more with the man giving them.”

 _That_ makes Seungcheol stop dead in his tracks. In front of the peonies no less. Not even the flower he’s after. His heart hammers away, and he does his best to laugh off the words. Wonwoo is just being kind, and even if he _does_ think that Seungcheol is attractive, he’s here to tell some other guy that he likes him.

It’s part curiosity and part necessity that leads Seungcheol to the blush pink chrysanthemum. He takes a few, rubs a petal between his fingers before passing them to Wonwoo.

“Chrysanthemum?” Wonwoo asks as he takes them. “It means truth, right?” 

_Ah_. So he does know. Seungcheol nods. “So you put it on your arm on purpose?”

Wonwoo’s face heats up and he runs a hand through his hair, half embarrassed. He looks beautiful like that. Seungcheol needs to stop thinking it.

“To remind myself to do what I think is right. To live my truth, though it sounds a lot more cliche out loud.”

“I think it’s really beautiful,” Seungcheol says. He reaches out and traces one of the petals on his arm, follows the soft curve to the center. He nearly pulls his hand back, but Wonwoo doesn’t make any indication that he’s uncomfortable, that it’s weird. It probably happens to him a lot. Wonwoo stares at Seungcheol’s finger on his skin, his eyes slowly traveling up, lingering for half a second on his lips before coming back up to his eyes. 

“Thank you. You too.” He catches himself, stuttering a bit. “Your work. I mean. Your bouquets are really beautiful.”

Is he...is this _on purpose_? Is Wonwoo…

Seungcheol snaps out of it and grabs an iris, adding it to the bunch and guiding Wonwoo back to the counter. The bouquet is similar in color to the last one, blushing pinks and soft purples, a pop of white from the heliotrope, but the message is the most important part, and to Seungcheol it’s crystal clear. 

“A confession, a message, devoted and true.” Seungcheol ignores the squeeze in his heart and hands over the bouquet. “Will that do?”

Wonwoo cradles the flowers gently in his arm and smiles.

“Yeah. I think that’s perfect.”

The rest is like the first time, a quick payment, a quick goodbye. But Seungcheol can’t seem to leave it alone.

“Come back soon,” Seungcheol blurts out. Wonwoo turns back to him, questioning but not upset. Not like he wasn’t planning to. “I want to hear how it goes. If he says yes.”

“Of course.”

When Wonwoo leaves the sun hides behind a cloud and the interior of the shop is shaded, almost devoid of color. It’s a little too on the nose for how he’s feeling. Jeonghan is the one who said he’s in love with love, that it’s bad for his heart but great for his business. The problem is that it’s not just love that’s caught his eye this time. 

But there is the boy and the flowers Wonwoo brings him, and Seungcheol needs to give it up before he’s in too deep.

  
  


❧❧❧

Seungcheol doesn’t wait for Wonwoo to tell him about his date. It was an easy internet search that led him to Wonwoo’s tattoo shop. It’s well within walking distance, just a few blocks away. There’s a coffee shop almost exactly half way between them, but Seungcheol doesn’t want to bring food into a place until he’s sure he can. Next time, he tells himself. 

Wonwoo’s shop is small, all dark woods and rich jewel tones, ruby red walls and jade green accents. The bell sounds, and over the buzz of the tattoo machine he hears Wonwoo’s voice call out, “I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Portfolio is on the table.”

And that’s what Seungcheol came for, anyway. He sits on a velvet couch, black velvet and plush, and pulls Wonwoo’s art book into his lap. The sketches are amazing. Flash designs, huge, full body pieces, even script work. But it’s the flowers that Seungcheol can’t stop looking at. 

Wonwoo draws flowers like he’s pressing real ones onto the page. Each detail is perfect, the easy curve of the magnolia, the pristine spread of the orchid. Seungcheol briefly considered a tattoo in university but decided against it. Now, with Wonwoo’s flowers full of life in front of him, it almost feels like fate. Maybe it was the wrong artist. Maybe it’s the right time, now, with Wonwoo.

Footsteps, the sound of the cash register, and then the tinkle of the bell. Seungcheol looks up. Wonwoo seems less surprised and more pleased to see him. He walks over and sits in the chair across from him, sighing as his body relaxes.

“Are you thinking about getting something? Considering how much you’ve helped me, I’d even give you my friend discount.”

Seungcheol’s eyes keep catching on an unassuming dogwood blossom, but he looks up at Wonwoo’s words, fingers tracing the page absently.

“Oh? So the date went well?”

Wonwoo grins. “We’re going to see each other again this weekend.”

Success means Wonwoo is happy, and it shows in his posture, in the almost pleased twitch of his mouth. It means he’ll come back at some point for another arrangement. It also means that Seungcheol needs to get over his pointless infatuation before he actually hurts himself.

“That’s great. I’m really happy for you. And not just as a customer. I’m —” Seungcheol pauses, chewing on his lip. He glances back down at the dogwood before meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. “I just think everyone deserves to find happiness.”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen with some kind of understanding. It feels like he’s slipped up, said too much, but then Wonwoo nods, leaning over the table and tracing the tip of the dogwood petal. 

“Why this one?” he asks, his eyes flicking up to Seungcheol’s then back to the drawing. “What does it mean?”

“I’ll tell you the next time you visit.” Seungcheol sets the book back down on the table, standing up slowly. “I’ve got to get back. Can’t keep the customers waiting too long.”

Wonwoo nods in understanding. “I have an apprentice. He’s a university student, so he’s only here a few days a week. I don’t mind that it’s only me most days. It’s nice being your own boss.”

“I’ll see you soon?” Seungcheol says, the end turned up like a question. He sounds a little too hopeful to his own ears, but Wonwoo gives him a soft smile. 

“Yeah.”

A week later Wonwoo finally comes back to the shop. He’s dressed more casually than Seungcheol has seen him before, track pants and a baggy tank top. There’s the barest hint of ink below his collar bone. Seungcheol’s mouth goes dry.

He starts to walk behind the counter and Wonwoo holds up his hand.

“Not buying today. I just came to tell you about my date.”

Seungcheol gestures for Wonwoo to follow him. There’s an extra chair in the back, and he pulls it out for him to sit on. Like this they’re both situated behind the counter, Seungcheol angled toward the door in case anyone comes in. 

“Are you not working today?” Seungcheol asks, gesturing to his clothes. Wonwoo shakes his head. 

“I’m doing the color work on a back piece today.” He rubs the back of his neck like he’s already tired. “It’s gonna be at least six hours in the chair. Maybe eight.”

Seungcheol glances at the clock and does his best to mask his worry. It will be very late by the time he finishes, but maybe Wonwoo is used to keeping late hours. 

Wonwoo follows his eyes and smirks. “Don’t worry. Some of us are used to getting home at 3am.” He relaxes into the chair, hands steepled in front of his mouth. “Now enough about work.”

It turns out Wonwoo’s date, still no name, had their expensive restaurant food wrapped to go and followed Wonwoo back to his apartment, where they played games until right before the last train. 

“So no kiss yet?” Seungcheol asks. Wonwoo’s ears are bright red and Seungcheol puts a hand on his shoulder, teasing.

“He,” Wonwoo starts, eyes sinking to the floor. “I’m probably taking things too slow. I’ve never…” Wonwoo sighs. “I don’t really know how to...do this.”

“I get it,” Seungcheol says, hand rubbing at Wonwoo’s shoulder absently. “It’s a lot scarier when you want it to work.”

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, almost grateful. If the flowers on his arm really _were_ telling a story it would go something like this. Wonwoo was in love once. In some way or another he got his heart broken, and now his heart doesn’t remember how to love, even if those feelings are true. 

Someday Seungcheol hopes to ask if he’s right, but for now he gives his shoulder a final squeeze before letting go, as much reassurance as he can offer. 

“You should ask him. Communication is important if you want to make something last.” Wonwoo’s eyes go wide and Seungcheol laughs. “I don’t mean you have to give him your whole life story. Just ask him if he wants you to kiss him.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “It’s not very romantic if I ask him.”

“It’s better than waiting for something that never comes.”

Wonwoo sighs, slipping his glasses off to scrub at his eyes. It’s the first time Seungcheol has seen him without them. It shouldn’t be possible for him to be even more handsome, but Wonwoo is unbelievably attractive. 

“You’re right. You’re right.” He glances up at Seungcheol as he slips his glasses on. “I guess I’m not very good at talking, either.”

“It hasn’t been a problem with me,” Seungcheol counters, ignoring the way his heart flips in his chest. 

Wonwoo smiles softly. “You’re a very special case.”

He doesn’t mean it like that, but Seungcheol feels arrow pierced all the same. 

Wonwoo’s phone chimes in his pocket and he sighs, standing. 

“Thanks again, Seungcheol. I’ve got to get back.” He walks to the door, stretching along the way, body arched beautifully toward the sun. “I’ll see you soon.”

The good news is he has a few dozen corsages to build, a few premade bouquets to wrap. It’s enough busy work to push the way Wonwoo makes him feel right out of his mind.

Over the next few weeks they take turns. Seungcheol pops over to Wonwoo’s shop, sometimes with iced americano from the half way coffee shop. He’s been there enough times that he finally meets Chan, the apprentice, sketchbook never too far from his hand. His art is amazing, and Seungcheol makes sure to tell him so. 

Wonwoo visits him, too. When the weather is nice they sit outside, sip iced coffee and watch the stray cats play and talk about anything and everything. Being with Wonwoo is comfortable, like they’ve known each other for a long time even though it’s only been a handful of weeks. Outside of their jobs they have a lot in common, from books to video games to a sweet spot for kittens. Wonwoo’s shoulder knocks into his when he laughs and Seungcheol feels like he’s barely treading water. 

He asks about the dates, too, because a part of him is convinced that if he keeps hearing how hard Wonwoo is falling for this guy, he’ll stop thinking about how much he wants it to be him. The dates are great, the first kiss was perfect, the second even better. The next time Wonwoo comes to the shop he walks over to the crape myrtles and pulls out a few soft white blooms, holding them out to Seungcheol.

The message is crystal clear.

“I think I’m really falling for him,” Wonwoo says. “I did some reading. Myrtles are for love, right? I’m not ready to say it...not yet, but I want him to know that I’m thinking about it.”

Seungcheol feels his mouth stretch into a warm, genuine smile, but his heart feels like glass, cracked right down the middle. The more time he spends with Wonwoo, the more conflicted he feels. It’s getting harder to shake off, but Seungcheol manages to take the flowers from Wonwoo’s hand and nod. 

“You’re right. I think I know what you’re trying to tell him. Wait here.”

He walks out from behind the counter and heads straight for the hyacinth, picking up a few periwinkle blue bunches. Wonwoo stays where Seungcheol left him, eyes following him around the shop. Next, the daphne, soft white with the barest hint of pink. Adding it with the white and soft blue, it’s like love in flower form, gentle and soft, but undeniable. Seungcheol swings to the iris and adds it in, a pop of dark color. A demand to pay attention to the message. 

Wonwoo takes the bouquet out of Seungcheol’s hands before he has the chance to add in any green. Their hands brush, and Wonwoo’s eyes are warm when they meet his.

“So, what does this one say?” he asks, voice soft and almost intimate between them. 

Seungcheol’s heart slams against his ribs. 

“Committed love,” he answers. “I wouldn't have you otherwise.” 

There is a moment where Seungcheol is convinced Wonwoo is going to kiss him, lips parted around an _Oh_ of understanding, eyes burning into his. Their hands are still touching around the bouquet. If this were another place, another time...but Seungcheol pulls his hand away. He makes his way behind the counter and tries desperately to ignore the way the tips of Wonwoo’s ears are pink. The arrangement is smaller without all the greenery, but it suits Wonwoo this way. It might be the best arrangement he’s ever made. 

Wonwoo pays him. Full price, even though they’ve both negotiated the point with the other. Friend discounts versus the importance of small businesses. 

“I hope it serves you well,” Seungcheol says honestly. “I’m sure he knows, but here’s to giving him a hint just in case.”

Wonwoo gives him that soft smile, the one he saves for talking about the boy and sometimes for him. The day has been tilted sideways and Seungcheol is pretty sure there’s no righting it.

“You never told me,” Wonwoo says as he turns to leave. “Why do you want that flower as a tattoo?”

Seungcheol blinks, surprised Wonwoo remembers something that must be so small in comparison to the man he’s falling in love with, to the clients whose stories he must hear every day. 

“The dogwood flower means ‘ _love not diminished by adversity_ ’.” He taps his bicep, the same spot where Wonwoo’s chrysanthemum sits. “A reminder to myself. No matter how hard it is, love is always worth it.”

“Not just love, you know,” Wonwoo says, laying his hand on top of Seungcheol’s on the counter. “Not just the other person. You’re worth that kind of fight, too.”

Wonwoo walks out of the shop and something opens up in Seungcheol’s chest, like he’s standing at the waters’ edge and a huge wave comes out of nowhere, hits him so hard he has to steady himself on the counter. 

Seungcheol is in love with someone who’s in love with someone else. 

There’s no way this is going to end well.

❧❧❧

The shop bell chimes while Seungcheol is in the middle of changing the summer displays to autumn ones. He looks up around an armful of greenery to see what has to be an actual model walk in. He’s dressed in jeans and a button down, somewhere shy of business casual, warm brown hair and a gorgeous smile. Seungcheol nearly drops everything on the ground, just managing to turn and let the greens fall on the work table behind him. 

Seungcheol turns back to face the man as he walks further into the shop. He holds out his hand right away, and Seungcheol gives him his own. 

“My name is Junhui. Jun.”

Seungcheol returns his smile as they drop hands. “Well, Jun, what brings you in today?”

Jun’s eyes roam over the flowers before he hums and walks toward the far wall. He picks up a single iris, twirling the stem gently between his fingers. 

“I think I’m getting messages in flowers,” he says. “The man I’ve been seeing always puts these in the bouquets he gives me, so I looked it up. Do you think he’s been trying to tell me something?”

 _It’s him_. 

Seungcheol grins, walking over to where Jun is standing. “I know he is. I’m the one that made them.”

Jun puts the iris back with the others. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The home screen is a picture of Wonwoo, candid, sunlight making the flowers on his arm rich and warm. His face is only visible from the side, the sharp angle of his jaw and the gentle slope of his nose. Seungcheol’s heart lurches even as Jun unlocks it and taps the screen. He pulls up the first bouquet and holds the phone between them. Seungcheol’s heart gives another stutter as he’s jolted back to the first time he ever laid eyes on Wonwoo. The bouquet is prettier than Seungcheol remembers, sweet and pure, love laid bare in soft pinks and purples.

“So what do they mean?” Jun asks, shaking Seungcheol out of his thoughts. 

It feels wrong, somehow, to be thinking about Wonwoo like this next to the man he’s in love with. He glances up and meets Jun’s eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” Seungcheol says, because the flowers say so but also because he thinks so, too. Jun’s eyes widen. “He feels like he could fall in love with you. He wants you to see his feelings.” Seungcheol’s breath catches at the look on Jun’s face, somewhere between embarrassment and happiness. Radiant. “That’s what he wanted to tell you.”

Jun stares at him for a long time, eyes searching his like he’s trying to parse together some hidden meaning. Eventually he settles on a smile as lovely as the first blooms of spring.

“That’s very like him,” Jun says, flipping through a few pictures of bookshelves and cats before landing on the last bouquet. “He’s not one for coming out and saying things even when they’re obvious.”

Seungcheol hums. “He’s mentioned it a few times, but it seems like you don’t mind too much.”

“Wonwoo is one of the most special people I’ve ever met,” Jun says, mouth ticking up almost stubbornly at the corner. “There’s not much he could do to scare me off.” He turns his attention back to the picture. “This is the last one he gave me. It’s really beautiful.”

Seungcheol feels warm at the indirect praise. It’s about the flowers, not the florist, but he knows how to accept the compliment for what it is.

“I can see how much you care about people from the way you make arrangements,” Jun says, and _that_ gets Seungcheol’s skin burning. He glances up to meet Jun’s eyes and is met with something a little teasing, like Jun is flirting with him. There’s no way, Seungcheol keeps reminding himself. He’s imagining things.

He licks his lips, warmth spreading to his face as he glances at the flowers. Cream and blue, the soft blush of pink, the pop of dark color from the iris. It really is beautiful, and now that he’s seen Jun himself, it feels like his flowers have been worthy of the recipient.

“This one is a little more serious,” Seungcheol says. He can feel Jun’s eyes on him even as he keeps his on the flowers. “Devoted love. He loves you, wholly, just the way you are. There’s nothing about you he would change.”

When he glances up Jun is wide eyed again, a little more surprised. Maybe he hadn’t believed Wonwoo was so serious about him until now. Seungcheol knows, acutely, but part of that is because Wonwoo actually tells him things. 

“I promise he’s very serious about you,” Seungcheol says, the words out before he can stop them. “You know he’s not so good at saying it, but from the first time he walked into my shop, he’s been serious about being with you.”

Jun’s hand brushes against his for a moment, like he’s looking for reassurance, and then his phone is back in his pocket. When they meet eyes again, Jun grins. 

“He was right about you,” Jun says. Seugcheol nearly gasps out loud. “You’re just as sweet as he said. But much hotter. He didn’t do you justice on that one.” 

Seungcheol wants to melt into the floor. Anything is better than the feelings surging through him. Wonwoo _talks about him_? To his...well, he isn’t sure if they’re officially boyfriends yet, but Jun is important enough to him that Seungcheol shouldn’t even come up. He’s just a man who arranges flowers. Sure, they’ve been spending more time together, but even a blossoming friendship pales in comparison to love.

It must show on his face. Jun laughs, laying a hand on his arm. 

“Don’t look so surprised. Wonwoo likes you. Whenever you visit him there’s a noticeable difference in his mood. He says seeing all the flowers here help with his art, too.” Jun’s hand lingers, warm on his skin. “I’d reassure you about how handsome you are, but I have a feeling that’s not the issue here.”

Seungcheol is floored. _Speechless_. The last time he felt like this was maybe university, when their second late night study session ended with Jeonghan kissing him breathless. Jun’s hand slips away from him and he takes a breath. It feels like the first one he’s taken in a while. 

“My bookstore is a few blocks away from Wonwoo’s shop. You should stop by sometime,” Jun says, turning toward the door. “Thanks for your help today, Seungcheol. Next time I’ll do a little more research and pick an arrangement for the front window.”

He manages to snap out of it as Jun pushes open the door, the sound of the bell almost grounding. 

“I, it was nice to meet you, Jun,” he manages to say, “I’ve got a lot of cat safe flowers here. I’ll look forward to it.”

Jun gives him a final wave, and as the door shuts behind him Seungcheol feels like he’s run a marathon, mind racing and skin buzzing. It’s easy to see why Wonwoo is so taken with him. Jun is beautiful, smart and sweet and almost uncannily perceptive. If he’s guessed Seungcheol’s feelings for Wonwoo, he has a strange way of showing that it bothers him. That coupled with confirmation that Wonwoo is, at least on some level, attracted to him just makes everything more complicated. If Seungcheol told him about his feelings, what would that mean for his relationship with Jun?

The rest of the day passess uneventfully, and when Seungcheol locks the door of the shop the answers still seem out of reach.

On Friday Seungcheol comes home to Jihoon in front of his door, a bag of takeout in hand. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks. Jihoon looks up at him, face unreadable.

“Your text,” he answers, as if that’s explanation enough. It is and it isn’t. Jihoon had asked him how things were going at work, and he’d sent back _okay_. Apparently that was enough to get Jihoon here. He stands as Seungcheol unlocks the door. “What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” Seungcheol says. Jihoon shuts the door behind him, setting their dinner on the coffee table before flopping onto the couch. 

“Then you better start talking.”

Seungcheol sighs, ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He settles on the couch next to Jihoon. There’s no fighting it. Jihoon has been his best friend since university. He knew that something was bothering him enough to bring food over even though he’s been stretched thin with finalizing album production. 

So he starts from the first bouquet, from Wonwoo walking into his shop, shy but determined. It’s easier to talk about the flowers, so he does, tells the story through the arrangements. _There’s a marigold on his arm_ , Seungcheol wants to say, _and a white rose. I want to give him the love he deserves._

He wonders if Jihoon gets it, if the years he’s spent writing songs help him understand what Seungcheol is trying to say. Jihoon is quiet, humming around bites of rice to let Seungcheol know he’s paying attention. Seungcheol’s appetite seems nonexistent, food and beer unopened in front of him. 

“So you’re in love with a guy who loves someone else, but he’s kind of into you too,” Jihoon says. “ _And_ the boyfriend said you were hot. Did I cover everything?”

Seungcheol scrubs his face with his hands. It’s a mess, even with Jihoon laying the facts out plainly. He nods and Jihoon hums again.

“Well, stranger things have happened.”

Seungcheol looks up at that. “What does _that_ mean?”

Jihoon takes another bite of rice and it’s like he chews slowly just to torture Seungcheol with silence. 

“I think it comes down to this. You tell him how you feel and break up his relationship and feel bad, or you tell him how you feel and he rejects you and you feel bad. Or, you put this behind you.” Jihoon sets his chopsticks on the table and brushes his hand over Seungcheol’s knee, a small comfort. “I don’t want this to turn into Jeonghan all over again. That’s all.”

Seungcheol has known Jeonghan since university, too. It wouldn’t be fair to say he was strung along, but he and Jeonghan dated on and off for the better part of two years before he finally said they’d be better as friends, that it was fun, but things with Jisoo were serious after all.

Seungcheol scoffs, leaning against Jihoon’s shoulder with a frown. It might be easier if it was like Jeonghan. At least he would know where he stood. 

They sit in silence for a bit, Jihoon finishing his dinner and cracking Seungcheol’s rice open without asking. He lets Seungcheol stay where he is, and rice is a small price to pay for anything tactile from Jihoon.

“You’re right,” Seungcheol finally says, twisting the cap off his beer and taking a swig. “It’s better to forget the whole thing. For everyone.”

They spend the rest of the night catching up, a movie they’ve seen many times before playing low in the background. It’s nice, and by the time Jihoon leaves Seungcheol feels a little more clear-headed. He needs to do this, and the next time he sees Wonwoo, he’s going to take his romantic feelings and give them back, spell it out clearly so he stops denying it.

A week and a half later Wonwoo walks into his shop. The weather has turned cooler, summer flowing into autumn, and he’s got a denim jacket on over his tee shirt. Seungcheol finds that he misses the floral sleeve when it’s out of sight.

“Flowers today?” Seungcheol asks, hip leaning against the front counter casually. Wonwoo looks him over up and down before nodding. 

“Junhui mentioned that he came by. What did he want?”

“He asked about some of the bouquets you got him,” Seungcheol says, leaving out the bits about how they both apparently think he’s hot. 

Wonwoo chews his bottom lip. He seems distracted by something today. His eyes scan the flowers and he looks lost, like the first time.

“I’m going to tell him I’m in love with him,” Wonwoo says finally. He glances at Seungcheol’s face and then quickly away, laughing softly. “God, I’m so nervous.”

Seungcheol’s heart lurches. He’s been preparing for this since dinner with Jihoon, but hearing it out loud is a sting of pain, a careless press of thorn to tender flesh. He walks closer to Wonwoo and does his best to give him a reassuring smile.

“That’s great, really. I’m happy for you.” He glances around at the flowers Wonwoo is standing by, eyes landing on a soft pink carnation. “I’ve got something in mind.”

He has to lean into Wonwoo’s space to reach them, hand hovering above his shoulder as he plucks a few stems. Their eyes lock, the tension between them thick enough to cut. If Jun had never told him Wonwoo was attracted to him it would be more bearable, but it takes monumental effort to pull himself away from the magnetic draw of Wonwoo’s body. 

He walks to the other side of the room and grabs some lily of the valley, tiny white buds hanging down as if in mourning.

“Another carnation,” Wonwoo says. “Does the color mean something different? You had a white one in the first bouquet.”

Seungcheol nearly freezes on his way to the next flower (pansy, white with dark purple interior). He’s tempted to scrap the whole thing, to spell out the message Wonwoo asked him for, but he told himself he would do this. He needs to put this behind him.

“Traditionally, it means I’ll never forget you, but it can also be a flower for declaring love.”

Wonwoo’s brow furrows as he looks at the flowers in Seungcheol’s hand, and Seungcheol is sure he’s going to call him out, but eventually he hums, satisfied.

It’s a beautiful arrangement, big pink blooms, delicate white with a pop of purple. It feels healing to see it spelled out. 

_Think of me. I must return to happiness, but I will never forget you_.

“What does it say?” Wonwoo asks like he’s reading Seungcheol’s mind. He hands the flowers to Wonwoo and watches him look them over carefully. “No iris this time?”

Seungcheol nods. “Jun knows you’re trying to send him a message now. You two have moved past that, I think.” He doesn’t bother wrapping them, just cinches them together with a rubber band. “As for the meaning, nothing too poetic this time, just that you’re in love, you hope it lasts, and you want the two of you to be happy for a long time.”

Wonwoo reaches into his back pocket for his wallet and Seungcheol lays a hand on his arm.

“No need,” Seungcheol says. Wonwoo’s eyes widen. “You’re my friend, and this is your big moment. They’re on me.” He squeezes Wonwoo’s arm before letting him go, eyes trailing over his face before resting on the flowers. 

Wonwoo reaches out, lays a searing hand on his arm. It feels like payback even though it’s a casual touch. There’s something behind Wonwoo’s eyes he can’t quite read. 

“They’re as beautiful as always. I’m sure Junhui is going to love them.”

Seungcheol feels like he’s breathing in water.

“You’ll let me know, right? How it goes. I’m sure he’ll say it back right away.”

Wonwoo grins, lopsided. “I think he will, too. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about it.” His hand slides free from Seungcheol’s arm, searing his skin the whole way, branding. “Thank you again. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t met you.”

Wonwoo leaves with a final wave, and Seungcheol watches the clock for five minutes before flipping his sign to closed and sliding to the floor next to the roses, out of sight. He presses his hands into his eyes and concentrates on breathing through the unbearable ache in his chest.

❧❧❧

The weeks come and go, blurring together in a mad rush of late summer weddings and autumn dances, intricate arrangements and first corsages. There’s been no time to stop in Jun’s shop (or Wonwoo’s for that matter). Wonwoo hasn’t been back, and Seungcheol can’t help but wonder if things didn’t go well for him after all. Did those three sounds spell the end of his relationship with Jun? 

Distance makes it easier for Seungcheol to plaster over the cracks in his heart, to put Wonwoo firmly in the friend category of his mind. To start things over with him the next time they meet. Work helps, too, the constant busy days leaving little time for him to think about what might have been, what could still be.

Seungcheol takes to feeding a stray cat that hangs out in the alley behind his shop. A gray tom cat, long fluffy hair. There’s a scar on his ear, a deep cut long since healed. A battle scar. At first he keeps his distance, but Seungcheol manages to coax him closer with food, and by the time Autumn is in full swing he can reach out and stroke the cat’s fur. He names him Aster without thinking too hard about it. He hopes he can bring him home before it starts snowing. They could both use the company, too.

The leaves outside the shop are beautiful, red and faded yellow, burnt orange and pale green. It is with the sun streaming bright through the front window that Wonwoo walks in, Jun right behind him, hands linked between them. Wonwoo is dressed in jeans and a shirt, dark jacket over top, glasses and a dark beanie. It’s like Seungcheol is hit with it all over again, wave after wave of fondness threatening to draw him under.

Absence and the heart and all that.

Jun, too, is dressed for the cooler weather, scarf tucked under the collar of a denim jacket. He glances around the shop before his eyes land on Seungcheol, giving him a soft smile. He tries to convince himself it’s mean spirited but fails miserably. He tries to convince himself he’s not charmed and fails at that, too.

It’s the first time he’s seen the two of them together. They make quite a couple, tall and handsome. Right, Seungcheol’s mind is quick to add. They fit. Wonwoo meets his eyes and it’s like an electric shock. He can’t remember a time his heart has beat so fast just from seeing someone.

Seungcheol opens his mouth to say something but finds the words are stuck, thick and heavy in his throat. He clears it and tries again.

“H-hi,” he says, too soft, but Wonwoo smiles, almost relieved. 

“Hey,” he says, waving with the hand linked with Jun’s. “It’s been a while. I’ve been swamped.”

He can do this. Probably. His heart crashes against his chest, frantic like a bird. 

“Same here.” He glances between the two of them. “What brings you in today?”

Jun nudges Wonwoo with his shoulder and he jumps a little, like he’s nervous. 

“Right,” he says. “I know exactly what I want today.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrow raises, mouth twitching up to match. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the counter. 

“Okay. Help yourself.”

Wonwoo takes a deep breath, glancing at Jun before letting go of his hand. He walks carefully around the shop. The flowers are all labeled, organized by color and then by letter, and he walks first to the iris, pulling it out and twirling it between his fingers. Next he grabs a few purple hyacinth, cylindrical flowers he strokes absently with his hand before placing them with the iris. He walks to the far wall, eyes scanning until he lands on the yarrow. He seems more confident now, more sure as he takes a few and adds them to the bouquet. The white fades into pinks, and then closer to the counter are the reds. Wonwoo glances at him, back at Jun, and then back to the flowers. He chews on his bottom lip and reaches for the geranium, scarlet, and arranges them so they’re next to the yarrow in the center. 

Instead of taking it over to Jun, Wonwoo walks to the counter and holds the flowers out to Seungcheol. The bouquet is all dark purples, a splash of white, a singular pop of red. The iris, too, though Jun hardly needs one at this point. 

But the message is all wrong. Seungcheol takes the bouquet from Wonwoo’s hand, eyebrows knitted as he wraps it up. Jun walks closer to stand behind him, eyes alight like he’s watching something interesting. Seungcheol stares harder at the flowers. There’s got to be a mistake here, something he’s missing.

Wonwoo clears his throat, cheeks splashed with pink.

“I, um, this — ” He takes a breath and tries again. It reminds Seungcheol so much of the first time he came into the shop it makes his chest ache. “This is for you.”

Seungcheol stares down at the flowers before glancing back up. Wonwoo’s face flushes darker.

“I did some reading. If I’m right, uh —”

Jun steps closer, resting a hand against the counter with a soft smile.

“It’s supposed to say ‘ _Forgive me. I’m a stupid boy who wants to cure your broken heart. Come to dinner with me and my boyfriend and maybe you can be our boyfriend, too_.’” Jun smiles. “Well, I might have added that last part in, but that’s the intended message.”

Seungcheol looks up from the flowers, glancing between the two of them. The shock must be written all over his face. Wonwoo clears his throat again and reaches out, his hands wrapping around Seungcheol’s and the bouquet.

“I’m sorry it took me so long, but Jun and I had a lot to talk about. I really like you, Seungcheol. You don’t know Junhui that well, but he likes you too. I know this is probably different from what you were expecting, but I mean it. How does dinner Friday night sound?”

Love is a lot like flowers. Different shapes, different scents, different preferences, but always, always beautiful. 

The answer is easy, as easy as everything with Wonwoo has been. He turns away and reaches under the back counter. There’s a vase there, cut crystal, one he was gifted when his grandmother passed away years ago. He uses some water from the bottle he keeps behind the counter and fills it just enough, turns around and sets the flowers in the vase. They’re beautiful. Seungcheol never would have thought to put them together, but he’s never seen an arrangement as perfect.

When he meets their eyes he can’t hide his grin.

“If you’ll have me.” His face is warm but his voice stays steady even if the words feel sticky in his throat. “It’s my first time, like this...but I, I’d like to give it a shot.”

Wonwoo’s breath wooshes out of him, relief all over his face. Jun is happy, too, radiant smile and bright eyes. He wonders if either of them have done this before.

Later. There’s so much he can ask later. He feels like he’s floating, unable to look away from Wonwoo. He takes Wonwoo’s hand and presses a kiss to the back of it, eyes locked. It feels electric. His hand is cold but Seungcheol feels warm all over, and when he lets go Wonwoo leans across the counter and connects their lips. 

He feels like a tulip, closed for the long night but opening in the sun, his body gravitating toward Wonwoo in a way he doesn’t want to stop. His lips are soft, the kiss gentle. Seungcheol still leans as far over the counter as he can, the desire to connect their bodies together dizzying.

It feels like hours, but can’t be more than minutes, when they finally break apart. Wonwoo grins and Seungcheol can’t help but smile back. Everything feels right. He looks to Jun, an uneasiness settling in his gut. It’s one thing to say this is allowed, but it still doesn’t feel quite real. Wonwoo, on the other hand, looks to Jun and back to him and he’s as calm as ever. _We had a lot to talk about_ , he said. 

Seungcheol fights back the worry and forces his body to relax under Jun’s gaze. The look on his face isn’t upset, more interested, pleased in a way he doesn’t really expect to see. 

“Do you want me to kiss you, too?” Seungcheol asks. 

Wonwoo bites his lip to hold in a laugh. Jun smiles, radiant, positively charmed, and closes the distance between them. He takes Seungcheol’s hand, spares a glance to his mouth, and presses a kiss of his own to the back of his hand.

“It’s nothing personal,” Jun says, his lips moving against Seungcheol’s skin, “I don’t kiss before the first date.”

“Got it,” Seungcheol breathes, tingling all over. Looking at Jun is like being sucker punched but in a way that makes you never want to stop. Maybe this is what boxers feel, the draw of the ring in spite of the pain. “So, Friday then.”

The two of them share a look before turning to Seungcheol at the same time. 

“Friday,” Wonwoo says. His smile is soft and his eyes are warm and it feels a lot like the first time Seungcheol made a bouquet someone loved enough to buy.

It’s barely two minutes after they leave the shop that Seungcheol gets a notification he’s been added to a group chat. Jun sends three hearts and a picture of cats smooshed together in a sleeping pile. Wonwoo sends his own image, a picture of a cat curled up in the sun, stomach on display, sleeping between two potted orchids. 

Seungcheol wonders how exactly he managed to get so lucky. 

❧❧❧

“If you don’t sit still this isn’t going to work,” Wonwoo says, left hand tight on the back of Seungcheol’s arm.

“It _hurts_. You said it wasn’t going to be this bad,” Seungcheol grits, hands balled into fists so tight his knuckles are white.

Wonwoo hums, the corner of his mouth ticked up in an amused smirk. Jerk. Seungcheol would smack him if he wasn’t holding an electric powered ink filled needle to his arm.

The machine is loud, and each time it makes contact with Seungcheol’s skin it feels like Wonwoo is holding his arm over an open flame, this strange combination of stabbing and burning. 

From the chair in the corner of the room, Jun laughs. He’s been taking videos since Wonwoo started, and if he weren’t so happy about the whole thing Seungcheol would definitely say something smart to him, too. He’s got no room to talk. He doesn’t have a tattoo at all, and no interest in getting one. 

“No,” Wowoo says, amusement coloring his voice, “I said _I_ don’t think it’s that bad. I never said it didn’t hurt.”

He refuses to glance down and see how much Wonwoo has actually done. If there’s more than half left he might actually pass out, so it’s better to focus on his breathing, the quiet music playing over the radio. 

“He’s almost done,” Jun says, like he can tell Seungcheol is almost at his limit. “It’s beautiful. You’re going to love it.”

He wants to kiss him, both of them. At least that would take his mind off things. And maybe it’s the endorphins or maybe it’s that he told them both he loved them and they spent most of yesterday in his bed, tangled up until Aster pawed at their feet and let out a grumpy meow. 

Four months in and it still doesn’t feel real, some days. Autumn faded to Winter and now the first tendrils of Spring are working their way through the city. It wasn’t perfect at first. Seungcheol didn’t want Jun to feel like the odd man out even though more often it felt like Seungcheol was the one who didn’t belong. He moved Aster into his apartment the first day it snowed, and as demanding as it might seem to suddenly have two boyfriends to spend time with and a cat to take care of, it was almost comforting. 

It took a solo date for things to really feel okay with Jun, like a part of him needed to see if anything was there without Wonwoo to fill the space. By the end of the night he pulled Jun into his lap and kissed him, something a little heavier than _like_ making a home inside of him. 

And so things settled into something like normal. They spend time together, they spend time apart, and it doesn’t feel like he’s missing anything. When he finally told Jihoon (before the _I love you_. He needed someone to know before he said it), he just tipped his beer to clink together with his and said, “Well, I guess I was wrong. Maybe two men are exactly what you need.”

The tattoo came as the next logical step. Seungcheol loves them, and there’s no one he trusts more than Wonwoo to put something on his body he will have forever. Wonwoo didn’t offer to tattoo him so much as Seungcheol came up for air, pressed his fingers deeper inside of him and said, “I want you to tattoo me.” Wonwoo, teetering on the edge of orgasm, sucked in a breath and nodded, glassy-eyed.

The machine stops and Wonwoo sets it down, the sound loud in the silence that follows. He sprays a paper towel with whatever magical solution he’s been rubbing over Seungcheol’s skin is called (Bac-something, Seungcheol wasn’t paying attention) and wipes the excess ink off his arm. He stares at it, hard. He’s always critical of his work but tattooing the man you love must add a little more pressure.

Finally, he settles back in his chair with a sigh, pulling off his gloves and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s done,” he says. Seungcheol moves to stand and Wonwoo’s hand is on his arm in an instant. “Don’t stand up yet. I’ll get you a mirror.”

Jun stands and walks over, his eyes on the tattoo. He grins. “It’s perfect.” He presses a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. “I can make sure you don’t fall over if you want to see it in the wall mirror.”

Seungcheol takes Jun’s hand and carefully gets to his feet. He’s a little dizzy at first, the adrenaline leaving him shaky, but he tightens his grip and Jun puts a hand on his arm under the tattoo to steady him. 

It’s a dogwood blossom, soft pink that fades to darker pink at the tips. Five of them held together by a delicately drawn branch. It’s simple, no extra frills, no big banners or script, but it’s beautifully drawn, practically pressed from life into his skin. 

“It’s beautiful,” Seungcheol says. Jun’s arms wrap around his waist, his chin pressed into his shoulder. Wonwoo rubs his eyes and settles his glasses back on his nose. 

“Was it worth the pain?” Wonwoo asks.

Seungcheol holds out a hand, beckoning him closer. Wonwoo stands and joins them, his hands sliding over Jun’s on his waist. It’s the question underneath the question that Seungcheol answers.

“It wasn’t painful,” he says ( _you didn’t hurt me, not the way you think_ ), “but I would still do it all again. This is worth it.”

He glances at the three of them in the mirror, Wonwoo’s sleeve on display, their hands tangled together on his hip. The dogwood blossoms warm and practically alive between them. 

Yeah, totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/woncheoling) // [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/tsukkitaeil)


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